


honeycomb

by Khismer



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Domesticity, F/F, F/M, Other, im about to pass out on my feet, its 2am, saeran choi week, the most generic title for this i could pick but listen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 12:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khismer/pseuds/Khismer
Summary: A trip to a bookstore turns into a chance to try out a new recipe.





	honeycomb

It’s been a successful day, overall. Saeran’s managed to find everything he’d set out to find, and he’s just started paying for his haul -- a dog-eared paperback about ‘wizards, dimension travelers, and dragons,’ despite the scantily-clad woman on the front, another recipe to try out, and a book promising to teach the secrets of gardening in apartments with limited sunlight, complete with glossy pictures -- when another book catches your eye. 

You wander over and skim through it, and one page in particular stands out. 

Saeran follows shortly after, announcing his presence by wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. The bag of books rustles as it brushes your side. 

“Found something you like?” 

“Mmh, think so.”

You show him the cover as he settles in -- ‘ _ delicious and cooling summertime treats!’ _ it declares, alongside illustrations of ice cream in glass dishes. 

Saeran makes a quiet noise of interest and you flip back to the page you were looking at. 

‘ _ Honeycomb ice cream. _ ’

“Honeycomb should make it  _ super  _ sweet. You interested?”

He nods, nuzzling against you in the next moment. You laugh. 

You should get it,” he says.

“Yeah?” He nods again. “I think I will, then,” you say. “And I think we can make this. Let’s see… butter, sugar, corn syrup, baking soda, whipping can, condensed milk, and… wait.”

You frown. 

“Hmm. Looks like it doesn't use real honeycomb, though,” you murmur. “I mean, this doesn't seem like it makes the  _ good  _ kind of imitation, either. That’s… kind of a bummer. I wonder if we could fudge it?”

You skim the recipe and then look up at him. 

“...think we have time to swing by that candy store a few blocks away before it gets dark?”

And an hour later, you are standing in your kitchen, carefully chopping the  _ not-real-honeycomb-but-realer-than-this-recipe-would-make  _ into little bits while Saeran stirs the half-formed, half-frozen ice cream. 

Making it by hand has taken longer than you thought, but popping it in the freezer for an hour or so still meant you had honeycomb to prepare -- the candy shop only sells chocolate-covered cubes, and you’ve had to cut off the chocolate sides before starting in on breaking it into smaller pieces. Saeran keeps trying to steal bits of honeycomb, which hasn't made the process any faster. Though the way he pouts when you shoo him away  _ is  _ rather cute. 

He’s diligent, though, you'll give him that; dedicated to seeing this recipe through to the end when you. 

When you have a sizeable pile of honeycomb, Saeran speaks up. “Seems soft enough now,” he says. “I think we can mix it in now.”

“How much should we add?” you ask. “It’s not entirely clear on that, and… well, you’re helping me make it, you can decide if you’d like.”

He eyes you. 

“...you said it’s sweet?” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Oh, like you don't know.”

He feigns innocence even as the corners of his mouth turn up, a dead giveaway. “I only managed to sneak a few small pieces. Can’t  _ really  _ tell from just that.”

“Oh, fine,” you huff, your own lips pulling up in a smile. “Here.”

You offer him one of the chocolate-covered sides, much more sizable than whatever honeycomb shavings he’d taken while you weren’t looking. 

He takes it and pops it into his mouth, eyes closing as he savors the intense sweetness of the candy -- and then his eyes open and he reaches for your cutting board, scoops the chopped up honeycomb into his hand, and dumps it all into the bowl. 

“Hey!” you protest, but he has already begun mixing it together. You couldn’t scoop it out again if you wanted to. 

Still, you chastise, “some of that was meant for the  _ top _ , you know.”

“Mmh. Needed to be sweet.”

“It wasn't going to be sweet enough with--” You stare at the bowl, trying to estimate how much honeycomb you'd prepared. “-- _ half  _ a cup of honeycomb instead of a full cup?”

He stops mixing and looks you right in the eyes. “No-pe.” He pops the ‘p’ with languid delight, and a noise of frustration escapes you. If anything, that only seems to please him more, because he chuckles and then he says, “See for yourself.”

And before you can react, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. 

You open your mouth to him out of habit, and he tangles his tongue with yours as his hand comes to rest at your hip, pulling you closer. 

You let your eyes slide closed as the taste of honeycomb fills your senses, melting into him -- and then he pulls away. 

Sweetness lingers on your tongue. You blink at his absence, but Saeran only licks his lips, a smirk growing as he looks at you. Heat rises unbidden in you at such a simple action. 

“See?” he says. “Sweet. It’s better with more.” And then the playfulness in his gaze turns to something more… meaningful. “Though if you still think all that sweetness wasn’t necessary, we have a few hours until it’s ready, once I put it back in the freezer.” His voice is low and smooth. “Until then, I’d be happy to try to convince you I’m right.”

“I--” You falter. “I’m open to persuasion.”

He smirks. 

God, you’re glad you got that book.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> for saeran choi week, day 5, 'sweets.'


End file.
